


Christmas Roast

by Book_Squirrel



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Adrinette, Aged Up, Angst, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, F/M, Family Drama, Fluff and Crack, Insults, Married adrinette, Married flirting, Pun War, Punning, Roasting, torturing Gabriel is fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-15
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-11-18 10:06:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18118616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Book_Squirrel/pseuds/Book_Squirrel
Summary: ‘Roasted Gabriel’ may not be on the menu, but it’s certainly on Marinette’s agenda. Tom instigates a pun war. Takes place during Adrien and Marinette’s eighth Christmas as a married couple.*Please Pun Responsibly*





	1. Resting Grinch Face

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies: This story is lighter on the roasts than I wanted/planned, but the puns are good! Promise! Please let me know if the Dupain-Cheng kids need clarification at all. 
> 
> What's the best roast you've ever heard or used? 
> 
> A.N.: Mémé and Pépé loosely translate as 'Gran/Nana' and '[grand]Papa'. It's what my grandmother called her grandparents, and I thought it would be a fun to drag that in for Tom and Sabine.

Adrien followed Marinette into the kitchen, bouncing their youngest in his arms. ‘It’s been fifteen years. Maybe he’s changed.’

Marinette picked up the warming baby bottle from the pot and held it against her wrist. Satisfied, she handed it to her husband before leaning against the counter, arms crossed. ‘I doubt that your father has changed that much after sitting in a cell for fifteen years.’

‘It’s his first Christmas out of prison. I want him to meet his grandchildren.’ He took the bottle and popped it into the mouth of the fussy baby. ‘And I want to give him another chance.’

‘But did it have to be Christmas?’ A timer went off and Marinette checked on the cake in the oven. ‘I remember how he treated you—us, everyone—that Christmas when we were teens. I don’t want the kids to have to live through anything like that.’

‘Please, Mari,’ he said softly. ‘He’s my father.’  

She pulled the cake from the oven and sat it on a cooling rack. ‘Okay, fine. We will have Gabriel Himself for Christmas dinner.’ She wrapped her arms around his waist. ‘But you’re going to have to make this up to me. Big time.’

Adrien kissed her forehead. ‘Done.’ He looked down at the two-month-old currently focussed on emptying the bottle. ‘What do you think, Philippe? Should I get Mommy a diamond encrusted serger? Or maybe a new work table for her sewing room? Do you think teak would stand up well?’

Marinette laughed. ‘If having your father over is what it takes to get exciting new sewing tools, then he can come for Easter as well.’

‘Er, let’s not get too excited.’

 

 

Emma ran through the house and into the kitchen. ‘Mémé and Pépé are here!’

Marinette pulled the thermometer from the goose in the oven. ‘Well, let them in! Or are you going to let Hugo open the door?’

The six-year-old scrunched up her face and ran to the door. ‘No! I’m opening it!’ she yelled at her twin.

‘I got here first!’

‘Open it together!’ yelled Adrien from the dining room. ‘Or Louise gets to open it.’

The twins managed to work together long enough to let Tom and Sabine in.

Tom’s voice boomed throughout the house. ‘ _Joyeaux Noel, mes petits_!’ He set the presents on the ground and hugged them both. ‘Have you been good this year?’

Emma giggled and shook her head, dark pigtails flying about her head.

‘At least you’re honest,’ said Sabine with a laugh. She kissed Emma on the head.

‘I lost another tooth!’ Hugo pulled his lips apart and exposed the hole in his mouth.

Sabine pretended to study the display. ‘Goodness! Did the Tooth Fairy leave you anything?’

Hugo shook his sunshine-blonde hair. ‘The Tooth Fairy doesn’t come here. Mom says Tikki and Plagg scare them away, so we put them in water and they grow into euros or pounds or gold dollars from America!’

Adrien set the last of the cutlery on the table and went to the front door. ‘Mom, Dad, Merry Christmas.’ He hugged Sabine first before submitting to the customary bone-crushing hug from Tom.

‘You decorated beautifully this year, dear,’ said Sabine. She picked up the basket of presents from the floor. ‘Hugo, can you help me put these under the tree?’

‘I can help you carry them.’ He wrapped his small hands over one of the handles of the basket. ‘Philippe is in his playpen in the living room.’

‘Your maman sent me the video of him rolling over,’ said Sabine.

‘He’s just a baby. It’s not that exciting.’

Sabine laughed as they disappeared into the living room.

Tom settled a hand on Adrien’s shoulder. Grey streaked his dark brown hair and moustache. ‘Are you all right? It’s a big night.’

Adrien shook his head. ‘I’m nervous. Broke two glasses and dropped a knife that scratched the floor. I’m thinking Marinette was right and we should have just invited him for coffee.’

‘I’m sure you can handle him, but if you need me to rough him up…’

Adrien hugged his father-in-law again. ‘Having you and Sabine as my parents is the seventh best part of marrying Marinette.’

Tom did the math and grinned. ‘Speaking of which, where are Louise and Noelle?’

A black blur shot out of the kitchen, Emma in hot pursuit.

‘Emmaleigh Sabine Dupain-Cheng!’

Emma froze at her father’s voice. 'Yes, Papa?' she squeaked. 

Plagg zoomed upstairs, cackling.

‘Leave Plagg alone.’

She stomped her foot. ‘He’s after the cheese platter, Papa! He took the Blue.’

Adrien took his glasses off and rubbed his face. When was bedtime? ‘Emma, come here.’

Emma stomped down the stairs. Her tiny Mary Janes were surprisingly loud.  

Tom took a basket of goodies to the kitchen.

A kwami shrieked from somewhere upstairs.

‘Get him!’ yelled a child’s shrill voice.

Plagg fled down the stairs. ‘Control your kittens!’ he yelled at Adrien as he made for the library/schoolroom.

Tikki flew after him, scolding in a long-dead language.

Emma tried to run after them both.

Adrien scooped her up under his arm, adjusting for the slippery fabric of her dark green dress. ‘Do I have to hold on to you all night?’

The doorbell rang.

Emma said, ‘I want my Christmas cheese.’ She pouted as her father carried her to the entrance hall. ‘I don’t want Plagg to eat it all.’

‘Even Plagg can’t eat all of the cheese in this house in two hours. I hope.’ Adrien put Emma on his shoulders, took a shaky breath, and opened the front door. ‘Good evening, Père.’

‘Good evening, Adrien.’ Gabriel Agreste looked up to study the black-haired girl on his son’s shoulders. ‘Is this Emma?’

‘Our eldest.’

She studied him, green eyes narrowed in concentration at the newcomer. ‘Are you a friend of Mama and Papa’s?’

Gabriel raised his eyebrows. ‘Rather forward.’

‘I wonder where she gets it from,’ muttered Adrien. ‘Emma, this is my father, your grandpère.’

‘But I already have Pépé. And if he’s grandpère, where is grandmère?’

Adrien tried to rub the back of his neck and ended up patting Emma’s leg. ‘We’ll talk about it later. Right now, I think Grandpère Gabriel wants to come in from the rain.’

Emma leaned over and looked at her father’s face. ‘Did he bring presents?’ She sat up and stared at Gabriel. ‘You don’t get to come inside unless you have presents. Christmas rules.’

Gabriel looked up at the little girl. ‘The presents should have been delivered yesterday.’

‘What did you get us?’

Gabriel’s lips twitched. To his son, he said, ‘I think I like this one.’ To Emma, he said, ‘That would spoil the surprise. But there should be two packages larger than you and—’ He ran through the list in his head, ‘eight small and medium packages.’

Emma tilted her head. She knew exactly which packages lay under the tree and how many there were. ‘He may come in, Papa.’

‘As you wish, Princess.’ Adrien stepped aside, allowing his father in from the rain. ‘Please don’t play favourites, Father.’

‘Mémé says that playing favourites makes everyone miserables,’ said Emma, ducking as they went through the arch and into the living area.

‘Miserable,’ said her father.

She grabbed Adrien’s ears and said, ‘Can I get down now?’

‘Promise not to chase Plagg?’

‘Adrien?’ Marinette came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel. ‘Can you take the goose out of the oven? I’m worried about hurting my scar.’

‘Shouldn’t it have healed by now? It’s been five months.’

She put the back of her hand to her forehead and feigned a swoon, sagging against the wall. ‘My apologies for inconveniencing you, dear husband and light of my life, but I need a big, strong, powerful man—oh, wait,’ she straightened up, grinning, ‘all I have is a stringy alley cat.’

‘Meow-ch!’ Adrien clutched the area over his heart. ‘Please, be delicate with me, My Lady.’

Marinette ran a finger along his jawline. ‘As I recall, you like it rather rough.’

He nipped her finger and purred. ‘As befits a stringy stray who never knew love until shown the comforts of your lap.’

Marinette blushed.

Emma’s heels kicked her father. ‘Hugo! They’re being gross again!’

Adrien laughed and lowered Emma to the floor.

‘Her scar?’ said Gabriel, removing his tailored wool coat.

‘Philippe was C-section.’ Adrien hung up the coat before going into the kitchen.

Marinette placed her hands on her hips and studied her father-in-law. ‘Well, well, look what the cat dragged in.’

Gabriel gave her a stony look. ‘Merry Christmas to you as well, Marinette. Apologies for intruding upon your Christmas.’

She shrugged. ‘It’s only the one Christmas at worst.’

‘Pleasure doing business.’

Marinette raised an eyebrow.

Gabriel coughed into his fist. ‘Speaking of, how is the business?’

‘What, Nathalie isn’t keeping you up to date?’

He scowled, the light glinting off his glasses. ‘I’d prefer to hear your opinion now that you’re the star designer for my company.’

‘Adrien’s and my company, you mean?’ Her voice remained saccharine sweet. ‘Agreste Designs is doing just fine. Hiring Chloe was the best decision we ever made. Even Nathalie respects her. She mentioned making Chloe her heir, for lack of a better term.’

Gabriel turned a greenish hue. ‘A Bourgeois running my company?’

Marinette grinned, showing all her teeth. ‘Adrien’s company.’ Her face relaxed. ‘We’re just glad to have Chloe on our side. It allows Adrien to be the perfect trophy husband—’

‘I heard that!’

‘— _and_ the perfect stay-at-home dad!’ She blew a kiss through the kitchen door. ‘He loves being able to spend as much time as possible with the kids.’

‘And you?’

‘I go in three times a week, more during the lead up to big events. It’s nice to be there for my children and spouse.’

Shrill laughter on the stairs made them look up.

Two little girls, one with dark brown hair and the other with hair as pale as Gabriel’s, slid down the stairs on a couch cushion.

They tumbled down the last few steps and slid across the polished floor, giggling.

‘Again!’ said the brown haired one. She grabbed her younger sister and dragged her up the stairs.

‘Girls,’ said Marinette, ‘not again.’

‘Stair sledding is fun!’ said the brown-haired one.

‘Louise Manon, come downstairs at once!’

Louise made a raspberry noise and stomped down the stairs, abandoning the cushion.

‘Noelle, you, too.’

Noelle skipped after her sister and came straight downstairs. She took one look at the tall man dressed in white and wrapped her arms around her mother’s legs. Her pale blonde hair hung down in a braid. She blinked large, dark grey eyes at him. ‘Maman,’ she whispered, ‘is that the Christmas ghost?’

‘No, _ma petite_ ,’ said Marinette, stroking her daughter’s hair. ‘Girls, this is Grandpère Gabriel.’

Noelle looked unconvinced. ‘Auntie Alya says that ghosts eat children who aren’t good at Christmas.’

‘That’s Halloween,’ said brown-haired Louise. ‘The Christmas ghost tells mean people to be nice. But Uncle Nino says Grandpère Gabriel is an asshat.’ She turned to her grandfather, a look of complete innocence on her face. ‘Your name is Gabriel. Are you an asshat?’  

Marinette choked on the combination laugh and gasp. ‘Louise! We do _not_ use that language.’

‘Uncle Nino said he would—’

Marinette held up her hand and sighed. ‘You need to say “I’m sorry” to Grandpère Gabriel.’

The little girl looked up at him. With a toss of her head and a shrug of her shoulders, she said ‘I’m sorry.’

Marinette squatted down on her heels and took Louise’s hands. ‘I will tell Uncle Nino that he is not allowed to babysit anymore if that’s the language he’s teaching you. Go into the living room.’

‘Mo-o-o-o-o-mee!’ Louise obeyed her mother, stomping and dragging out the extra syllables.

‘I promise they’re not usually this bratty,’ said Marinette. ‘Must be something new in the atmosphere.’

Gabriel cleared his throat. ‘I arranged for the presents to be delivered by the shops…’

‘The last one arrived yesterday. They’re especially excited about the very large one.’

‘Any guesses?’

‘Something involving a D-O-L-L-H-O-U-S-E? Adrien told me you asked how much room we have in the playroom.’

A baby’s shrill cry sounded.

Gabriel followed Marinette into the living room.

She immediately went to the playpen and picked up the fussy baby.

Sabine sat by the tree in front of the bow window. She handed out gingerbread for the children to put on the tree. Tom lifted the children up so they could reach the higher branches. 

Noelle let go of her mother’s trouser leg and scuttled over to her grandpapa. ‘Pépé? Where is Papa Noel?’ she said.

‘Papa Noel?’ Tom grabbed her and threw her into the air. ‘What do I know about Papa Noel? Is he coming to Paris?’

Noelle giggled and tried to touch the tall ceiling. ‘Higher, Pépé! Higher!’

‘Not too high, dear,’ said Sabine. ‘You remember—’

‘Yes, dear,’ said Tom. ‘Believe it or not, I do remember throwing Hugo through the ceiling that year.’

Marinette grimaced, gently bouncing Philippe. ‘Not the best Christmas memory.’

‘I want to do it again!’ Hugo took a bite of his gingerbread man.

Louise said, ‘Tikki says the area between the floors are really good hiding spots.’

‘You’re too big now,’ said Sabine, pulling the little girl into her lap and tickling her. ‘And Hugo ate the last gingerbread man! Now what will we give Papa Noel?’

‘Camembert!’ shouted the children.

‘Is Plagg Papa Noel?’ said their grandmother.

The children groaned.

Marinette laughed. ‘All right, everyone. Line up.’

The four children immediately lined up in age order. It made any event involving publicity easier for the family.

Marinette placed a hand on each child’s head as she introduced them. ‘Gabriel, I know we sent you pictures, but it’s the first time they’ve met you. Emma and Hugo are six—’

‘And eight months!’ they chorused.

‘Yes, but don’t interrupt. Louise is five, Noelle turns three tomorrow, and,’ she adjusted the baby in her arms, ‘Philippe is five months.’

Bluebell eyes blinked at the grandfather. Tufts of blond hair stood up on his head.

‘A pleasure,’ said Gabriel, hands held stiffly behind his back.

‘Children, say hello to Grandpère Gabriel.’

‘Hello,’ they all said.

When no one made to say anything else, Louise said, ‘May we go now?’

Marinette nodded and the children scattered about the room.

Adrien came in, a streak of flour on his square glasses. ‘Dad?’

Gabriel looked over.

‘Yes?’ said Tom, concentrating on hanging fresh mistletoe.

Adrien ignored his father. ‘Did you remember to bring the ganache? I can’t find it.’

‘Check behind the milk,’ said Tom. ‘Marinette said to hide it from Tikki. That kwami would eat the entire bakery if she could.’

Adrien gave a thumbs up and went back to the kitchen. ‘Plagg! Really?’

He carried the kwami out of the kitchen by the nape of his neck. ‘If I find you in here one more time before dinner, I’m letting the kids loose on you.’

The entire Dupain-Cheng litter turned and stared at the kwami. Tiny fingers twitched, ready to tackle the mischievous creature. Even Philippe knew that the kwami made for good fun and waved his hands clumsily.

Plagg gulped.

‘And no biting.’

Plagg groaned but nodded his head. He’d been at the receiving end of the children’s imaginations too many times too argue. He would behave…at least for tonight when they were all hyped up on sugar and the promise of presents.

Tikki buzzed out of the library. ‘There you are! It’s—’ She sniffed and stared at the tree. ‘Gingerbread?’ Her eyes would have turned to hearts if possible.

She floated over to Tom and Sabine. In the sweetest tone possible, she said, ‘May I have a piece?’

‘Thank you for asking and setting a role model for the little ones,’ said Sabine. She took one of the gingerbread men and handed it to the kwami. ‘Merry Christmas, Tikki.’

Tikki giggled. ‘And to you as well.’

Adrien released Plagg and went back into the kitchen.

Hugo tugged on his mother’s trouser leg. ‘Is Nanath coming?’

‘She’s coming for New Year’s, remember?’ Marinette smoothed his hair back, her fingers catching in his thick black hair. ‘She’s going to bring presents then.’

Hugo hugged his mother. Already, his head came to her waist. ‘I miss Nanath.’

‘I know. You can tell her when we call tomorrow.’

Hugo shook his head. ‘Not the same.’

Louise hugged her brother and dragged him over to the tree.  

‘Who or what is a Nanath?’ said Gabriel, watching the children play.

‘It’s what the twins called Nathalie as soon as they were able to talk. We think it’s a combination of “nana” and her name. The rest picked it up and refuse to call her anything else.’

‘What does she think of it?’

‘She hasn’t said anything, but we think she’s secretly pleased. Can I get you—?’ 

Glass shattered in the kitchen. Adrien swore.

‘I’ll check on him,’ said Tom.

He lumbered into the kitchen and closed the door behind him.

Adrien sat on the floor, one arm wrapped around his legs.

A shattered gravy boat lay across the floor.

Tom sat down next to Adrien. His knees creaked.

Adrien took a shaky breath and pushed his glasses onto his head. ‘I thought I could do this. It’s been fifteen years! I should be fine!’

‘You don’t have to.’ Tom put a hand on Adrien’s shoulder. ‘Everyone will understand if you need him to leave.’

Adrien wiped at his eyes. ‘I thought maybe time had changed and healed things, that he’d be happy to have a chance to do things right this time.’

‘Don’t forget that this is your father. He’s always going to be terrible with social skills and relationships. But he came. He brought presents for the kids.’

‘Obviously something better than pens.’ Adrien hiccoughed in the middle of forced laugh.

‘He doesn’t have to stay. This is your home, your safe place.’

‘But I invited him!’

‘Part of being a good host is knowing when to tell people they need to go home. It’s just harder when it’s family.’ Tom chuckled. ‘My family is Italian. They’d never leave unless I told them that we were tired of them and were ready to reclaim our home.’

‘It’ll upset the kids.’

Tom shifted his position on the tiled floor. ‘Look, son, you don’t have to impress your father anymore. You’re going to want to for the rest of your life. But you are under no obligation to gain his approval.’

Adrien wiped at his nose and looked up. ‘You’re proud of me, aren’t you, Dad?’

Tom pulled the younger man into a proper hug. ‘Always. Even when you do something as foolish as eating forty-three macaroons in one sitting on a dare.’

‘I was seventeen!’ Adrien smiled, though. ‘You’re the best dad in Paris.’

‘Have you looked in the mirror recently?’

‘No, not really.’

‘Maybe you should.’

‘Too many years of that as a teen.’ Adrien stood up.

‘Don’t deflect that compliment. You have great kids who adore you.’

Adrien extended a hand to help Tom up. ‘I think I’m missing my mom, too. Having my father meet the kids…She would have spoiled them rotten.’

‘It’s okay to miss her. And it’s okay to miss your father or at least what you wish he could be or might have been.’

‘It’s so confusing. I guess I understand why he keeps his emotions shoved down.’

‘Don’t ever push your emotions away. That’s not the Adrien we know and love.’

Adrien stared at the floor and played with his wedding band.

‘And it’s also okay to be confused. Even if he hadn’t been Hawkmoth, it would have been painful because of how he treated you.’

‘Thanks.’ Adrien took a shaky breath and cleaned his glasses. ‘I think I’m good now.’

‘Good, because the duck should be done. Do you want to carve it this year?’

Adrien looked up, a grin spreading across his face. ‘Really?’

‘Sure. Just make sure you carve the duck and not your father’s hair.’

Adrien burst out into laughter as he pulled the duck from the oven. ‘It did look like a duck’s back-end, didn’t it?’

‘Do you think the hairdresser forgot to tell him to duck?’

Marinette poked her head into the kitchen, eyes worried.

‘It did open him up to Plato.’ 

‘Plato what?’ said Marinette.

Adrien held up the roasted duck. ‘Plato duck puns, my lady.’

‘Get out!’ She grabbed a towel.

Adrien jumped to the side. The towel still caught him on the butt. ‘My Lady!’

She spun, stood on her toes, and kissed his forehead. Cupping his face, she said, ‘Feeling better, _minou_?’

‘Your dad’s pretty quick at soothing emotions.’

‘I think Hawkmoth set a pretty steep learning curve.’

Tom said, ‘After raising a teenage girl, a son is fairly easy.’

‘Papa!’ 

‘It’s okay, Mari.’ Adrien rubbed his head against hers. ‘I still love you.’

‘Adrien, how could you betray me?’ Tom crossed his arms. ‘And here I thought you were my favourite son-in-law.’

Marinette shook her head. ‘With all the dad jokes you use?’

Adrien grinned a perfect Chat Noir grin, a familiar gleam in his eyes. ‘A reminder that the only difference between Chat Noir and myself is that I can make dad jokes.’

‘Pretty sure you both pun.’

‘Yes, but mine are apparent.’

‘Maman!’

While Tom cleaned up the glass, Adrien carried the duck to the dining room. ‘I think we can table that discussion for later.’ He set the platter on the groaning table.

‘ _Adrien!_ ’ Marinette marched over to her husband and stared him down.

He had the grace to look slightly sheepish. ‘Am I bugging you?’ He blinked his best kitten eyes at her.

Marinette rolled her eyes before tapping him on the nose. ‘It’s a good thing I larvae you.’

Adrien melted, a sappy grin spreading over his face.

Marinette looked over at her litter in the living area. Gabriel sat in one of the chairs and cradled a sleeping Philippe.

‘Would you look at that,’ said Adrien, wrapping an arm around his wife.

‘Apparently he remembers something from your childhood,’ she said, resting her head against his chest.

‘Hugo!’ snapped Sabine.

Hugo froze at the MomVoice™.  One small hand was wrapped around a gingerbread man on the Christmas tree. He let go and slowly backed away.

Sabine picked up her grandson and hugged him. ‘We’ll eat those tomorrow, okay? It’s good to wait. Remember the Cookie Monster video we watched?’

‘Where they talked about waiting and,’ he screwed up his face, trying to remember the English phrase, ‘ _de-layed grat-i-fih-kay-shun_?’

‘That’s the one.’ Sabine tickled him and he laughed. ‘So can you wait?’

‘Okay!’ Hugo looked at the table. ‘But is it time to eat? I’m _starving_ , Mémé!’

‘Tell everyone to wash hands,’ said Marinette.

Hugo wriggled down and ran upstairs, yelling, ‘Wash your hands!’

The girls cheered. The sounds of splashing and friendly squabbling came from the upstairs bathroom.

Sabine smoothed down her red Christmas sweater, checking for gingerbread crumbs. ‘Gabriel, do you want me to take Philippe?’

Gabriel looked up from the sleeping baby’s face. ‘Will he join the table or sleep?’

‘Hopefully sleep in his playpen,’ said Marinette. ‘I’d appreciate a meal without him trying to upset my plate.

‘Understood. I remember Adrien at that age.’ Gabriel placed the sleeping baby carefully in the playpen and covered him with a homemade blanket.

‘I think your father’s in love,’ whispered Marinette, studying his expression.

Adrien nuzzled her hair. ‘Even monsters have hearts?’

The children tumbled in and presented their damp yet reasonably sanitized hands for inspection.


	2. They Came, They Thawed, They Conquered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More puns, more roasting, and enough presents to sink a ship. 
> 
> Plagg commits the Grate Christmas Cheese Heist.

Tom pulled the fruit and cheese platter from its hiding spot. He swore, startling Noelle.  ‘Where is that rat-kwami?’ Tom looked around the room. ‘I’ll teach him to steal my cheese.’  

‘What happened this time?’ said Adrien. Philippe dozed against his chest.

Tom set the tray on the table. The fruit remained, but the cheese selection was, well, little better than an arrangement of crumbs. ‘I was looking forward to the new smoked cheddar.’

Hugo stood on his chair and strained to see. ‘Plagg cut the cheese.’

Tom and Adrien beamed at him.

‘He’s starting early,’ said Tom, wiping away a tear.

Adrien ruffled his son’s hair. ‘Not bad, lil’ bug. But sit down.’

‘You gouda brie kidding me,’ said Gabriel, shaking his head. ‘To brie or not to brie, that is the question.’

Adrien stared in horrified pride. A look of pure joy crossed his face. Maybe this Christmas wouldn’t be a waste.

Tom shook his head. ‘Too cheesy to be brie-lievable.’

‘Don’t know,’ said Adrien. ‘I’m kind of fondue it.’

A little colour came into Gabriel’s cheeks. He leaned his elbows on the tale. ‘Says the boy who read fetaphysics in school.’

‘Oh queso—’

Marinette groaned and covered her face. ‘There are three of them! Maman, is it present time yet?’

The three men looked to Sabine.

 She shook her head. ‘I’m sorry, Mari, but you deserve butter.’

‘No!’ She gripped her hair in quasi-mock distress. ‘How could you betray me, mother?’

‘I’m a baker. I can’t go against the grain.’

Marinette glared at her father and husband. ‘You’re both toast.’

Adrien gave her a mischievous smile. ‘No need to wine about it.’

‘It is the most wine-derful time of the year.’ Tom’s eyebrows danced.

‘Papa!’

‘The problem with bread puns,’ said Gabriel softly, ‘if that they tend to get stale.’

Marinette gave him a proper glare. ‘Sometimes I’m really jealous of people who don’t know you.’

‘Are you though?’ He glanced at his son and grandchildren. ‘I think you have plenty to thank me for.’

‘I’m sure something would have brought us together,’ said Adrien, reaching across two children to put a hand on his wife’s knee. He squeezed gently. _Be nice._ ‘Fate, Destiny—’

‘The best pastries in all of Paris,’ said Sabine into her wine glass.

Gabriel gave her A Look.

She arched her eyebrows and sipped delicately.

‘Perhaps,’ said Gabriel, ‘but not without a great deal of luck.’

‘Because you have so much luck of your own.’ Marinette took a gulp of wine. ‘You lost to Ladybug and Chat Noir—Adrien, how many Akumas did we take down before catching Hawkmoth?’

Adrien shoved a cheese-laden piece of brioche into his mouth.

‘It’d be terrible to lose to the infants of Ladybug and Chat Noir.’

Emma and Hugo’s heads turned back and forth, watching the exchange. They scowled at their mother’s term.

‘We’re not babies,’ said Emma, crossing her arms.

‘Grandpère was Hawkmoth?’ Hugo grinned. ‘This family is so cool!’

‘You can’t tell anyone at school,’ said Adrien.

‘It’s a secret?’

‘Like Plagg and Tikki.’

‘Yes, Papa,’ the twins said with a groan. They returned to their dinner.

Tom nudged Sabine. ‘Looks like we have some serious competition in the “cool grandparents” category.’

‘Yes, but you actually spend time with them,’ said Marientte. ‘And feed them.’

‘Getting a date night is always nice,’ said Adrien, relieved to be heading towards neutral territory.

‘And not having to dodge Akumas anymore?’

‘As usual, Marinette, you do your best work when fuelled by righteousness.’ Gabriel held up his wine glass. ‘ _Salute_.’

‘You say that like it’s a bad thing.’

Adrien squeezed Marinette’s knee harder. ‘Just keep mum.’

‘I think your father already did that.’

Gabriel flinched. A touch of arrogance returned to his face. ‘Madame Dupain-Cheng, if I wanted to properly roasted, I would have Akumatized a toaster.’

Tom clapped his hands and rubbed them together. ‘All right, that’s enough. Who’s ready for presents?’

‘Presents!’ shouted Emma and Hugo. They jumped down from their chairs and ran to the tree. Noelle slipped out of her chair and ran after them.

Louise tripped, dragging part of the tablecloth with her.

Gabriel’s hand slammed down on the tablecloth, just stopping a large serving dish from landing on her. ‘Are you all right?’

She wriggled out of the cloth’s grip. ‘Thank you, grandpère.’ She kissed him on the cheek before running to join her siblings.

Tom said in Adrien’s ear, ‘I do believe your father’s heart may grow three sizes today.’

Adrien snorted. ‘Great.’

‘Pictures first,’ said Sabine, scrambling for her phone. ‘Everyone, sit in front of the tree!’

Adrien said ‘Who wants to hold Philippe for the picture?’

Hugo’s hand shot up first.

Twenty minutes, three arguments, two meltdowns (one Louise’s, the other Adrien’s), and a promised bribe of extra Yule Log for Noelle, the adults gathered around Adrien’s camera to ooh and aw at the pictures.

‘They look like absolute angels,’ said Sabine. ‘Look, Tom, Louise looks just like pictures of your mother at that age.’

Marinette and Adrien looked at their children. Hugo, freed of his little brother, was attempting to steal yet more gingerbread off the tree. Noelle had partially ripped the paper from one of the gifts. Big tears leaked down her face as Louise yelled at her. Emma yelled at Louise for yelling at Noelle.   

Philippe pulled at the strand of pearls around Marinette’s neck and cooed.

‘Angels. Right,’ said Adrien, rubbing his forehead. Adulthood—no, scratch that—Parenthood was being thankful that Christmas only came once a year.  

Marinette freed her pearls from Philippe. ‘I blame your side of the family.’

‘Phone thief.’

‘Cheese hoarder.’

‘Gabriel, do you want copies of any of these?’ said Sabine, flipping through the pictures on her phone.

‘Yes, thank you.’

Adrien set his camera on the table. ‘I’ll send them to you sometime this week, Father.’

Hugo climbed onto the arm of the couch and rested a balancing hand on his mother’s shoulder. He swallowed a mouthful of gingerbread. ‘Is it present time yet?’

Gingerbread crumbs sprayed all over her sweater. Marinette kissed his forehead anyways. ‘Yes, present time. But we have to take turns.’

‘Oldest to youngest or youngest to oldest?’ said Adrien, sitting by the tree.

Noelle climbed into her father’s lap and yawned, rubbing her face on his sweater.

‘Youngest to oldest this year,’ said Marinette. She grinned at her father. ‘You don’t have to go last this time, Papa.’

Tom laughed and reached into the pile. He pulled out a package from him and Sabine. ‘Philippe gets the first present!’

‘But he’s a baby,’ said Emma. ‘He doesn’t know any better.’

‘And you’re the eldest,’ said Sabine, wrapping an arm around her. ‘Therefore you have the most patience.’ She whispered in the girl’s ear, ‘And you need teach your brothers and sisters how to be patient. Can you do that?’

‘Yes, Mémé.’ She wriggled into a more comfortable position and sighed with contentment.

With a present each from Tom and Sabine, two presents from their parents, and several large, expensive presents from Gabriel, the room was soon a mess of paper, bags, and ribbon.

When Emma unwrapped the box containing the eight-room dollhouse (COMPLETE WITH PATIO! marked boldly on the side), Adrien groaned. ‘I’m going to have to put that together.’

‘I’m sure five adults have a chance of putting something like that together.’ Sabine’s expression said otherwise, no doubt remembering Marinette’s childhood.

Marinette rubbed Adrien’s back in sympathy.

Gabriel pulled a packet of papers from his suit jacket’s pocket. ‘I had my personal assistant translate the instructions for us.’

Adrien sighed with relief. ‘That _is_ a proper Christmas present.’

‘Good, then I can take your other present back?’

‘Père!’ Adrien sat up straight. ‘Was that a joke?’

‘I’m doing my best.’

Hugo screamed when he finally ripped the paper off of his large present. ‘A treehouse kit? This is the best Christmas ever!’

Tom and Sabine looked from their grandson’s obvious glee to their son-in-law’s absolute horror to Marinette’s defeated expression and Gabriel’s Cheshire cat grin. They burst into laughter.

‘Congratulations, Gabriel,’ said Tom, wiping away tears. ‘I think this lot has been officially spoiled.’

Marinette gripped her hair with her hands and screamed through a tightly closed mouth.

‘I’m not putting that together,’ said Adrien with a sharp look at his father. ‘Or in the perfectly situated tree—HOW DID YOU KNOW ABOUT THE TREE?’

‘Google Maps is more invasive that you would probably prefer.’

Adrien rubbed his forehead. ‘Mari, remind me to have my assistant call on Monday.’

‘As for the treehouse proper, if I may be so allowed. I do remember how to hold a hammer.’ Gabriel glanced at Adrien and Marinette. ‘I have some Christmases to make up. After doing so much time, I need to make some.’

Adrien and Marinette exchanged glances. A lift of an eyebrow, a slight nod of the head.

Hugo and Emma chattered to each other in their twin language, the dollhouse forgotten in the excitement of a proper treehouse.

Louise climbed on top of the box and waved piece of wrapping paper in the air like a flag. ‘We have a treehouse!’

‘We’ll discuss this more later,’ said Adrien.

Marinette said, ‘I just hope you don’t buy them _quite_ so many gifts next time.’

Adrien said, ‘Tom and Sabine keep them pretty spoiled so far—’

‘ _We_ spoil them?’ said Tom, moustache twitching.

Sabine shook her finger. ‘As if Marinette wasn’t the only reason they don’t live in an actual toy shop!’

Adrien blushed. ‘It’s just so easy. I forget what they already have.’ He muttered, ‘You know I stress shop.’  

Marinette sighed. ‘We’re going to have to buy back that monstrosity of a mansion if you buy anything else.’

‘ _Feta_ by me.’

‘No.’

 

 

‘Ladybug! Chat Noir!’ Noelle stood in the box that had contained the new dollhouse. Two big bows stuck to the top of her head and a blanket made for a cape. ‘You cannot defeat me!’

Emma and Hugo wore their new Ladybug and Chat Noir pyjamas. 

‘Give it up, Present Company!’ yelled Emma. ‘You can’t have our Miraculouses.’

‘You should share,’ said Noelle, bouncing in the box. ‘My Papa—uh, Hawkmoth says it's good to share!’

Adrien handed a mug of tea Marinette. ‘Sounds just like you.’

She chuckled. ‘Which one?’

‘All of them.’ He sat down and wrapped an arm around his wife.

She adjusted the nursing blanket and put her head on Adrien’s shoulder. ‘How do you feel?’

‘Happy. Content.’

Emma threw Louise’s new stuffed ladybug in the air. ‘Miraculous Ladybug!’ She and Hugo dodged the falling plushie.

Marinette lay a hand on Adrien’s knee. ‘How do you feel about tonight?’

‘Other than a mild roasting, I think we _brie_ -zed along.’

‘ _Adrien_.’

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the chapter-word count ratio being so off. I couldn't find a good break point in the first chapter.


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